AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Something in this kiss has rattled loose the laces around my heart. I don’t merely want this Roman to keep doingexactlywhat he’s doing, but I want to loosen my tongue and spill my own confessions to Brianna.
I keep my eyes fixed on his, and do my best to imagine that he is my beloved Brianna and that I am telling her all the dark and secret thoughts in my heart through this kiss, and that perhaps if I can get Pax to feel something of what I feel, he will be able to get through to her.
It’s difficult, because of the stubble and the annoying way Pax glares back at me with those intense icicle eyes of his. And I have to keep shifting so he can’t feel how hard I am for him.
No, not for him.
Neverfor him.
I don’t think.
Just as I cannot take the tension any longer, as I imagine taking his hand and directing it to stroke my throbbing, aching cock, he jerks away. His lips are raw, his eyes glazed over.
“Pax?” I snap my fingers in front of him, but his eyes remain unfocused. “Do you understand the things I’ve taught you?”
“Yes,” he says. His face breaks out into a wide, beautiful grin. “I understand perfectly.”
And then he turns around and leaves.
I flop back down to float over my bed, wiping my eyes, where ghostly tears have gathered unexpectedly.
“Pox-ridden Roman,” I mutter. “He’ll be the death of me.”
32
Pax
It is the day of the open home. Bree and her mother have been in the kitchen all morning, baking apple pie. According the Gwen the Real Estate Agent, if the house smells like apple pie, it’s a homely scent that’s more enticing to buyers. Personally, I don’t know how you can have a ‘homely’ smell without wine and blood and leather armour, but I noticed that no one asks the Roman these things.
The doorbell rings. “That will be Gwen with the first potential buyers!” Sylvie drops the pie on top of the oven, removes her apron, and rushes to the door. “Mike, they’re here!”
“Coming!” Bree’s father calls from my bedroom, also known as the ‘junk room,’ which he has been trying to ‘square away.’ I gather this means that Sylvie wants him to get rid of his stuff, but instead he’s shoved it all into the closet and is trying in vain to lock the door.
Bree hangs back in the kitchen, sweeping up the icing sugar from the floor. She looks miserable, but we’re going to change that.
Edward and I are in place, ready to enact my brilliant idea. Edward peers at me from around the corner, and flashes me his smile that Bree describes as ‘devilish.’ We haven’t spoken about the lovemaking lesson he gave me. It was all very odd. I was following his instructions perfectly, imagining I was kissing Bree and pouring all Edward’s poetic words into her so that she would love me, and then I realised that Iwasn’tkissing Bree, but I was kissing Edward, and that it was rather pleasant, like slaying Druids on a lovely summer’s day. I’d like to do it again, but after the way I ran out of there, he must think me a mighty coward, so it’s best if I don’t mention it.
Besides, we have more important things to worry about. Like a certain real estate agent and her plan to make Bree sad.
“—this large, elegantly-appointed entrance hall,” Gwen says, waving her arms as she leads a man and woman into the house. “Freshly painted to bring out the historic features like these oak beams and that beautiful seventeenth-century wainscotting, this room will wow your guests from the moment they set foot in the door, and the sellers are willing to include any of the furniture and chattels you like.”
“What’s this stain on the floor?” The man frowns as he scuffs the spot where Ambrose shot Father Bryne.
“Oh, it’s nothing to worry about.” Sylvie stands on top of the stain. “Our daughter Bree had some friends over and they spilt a little strawberry daiquiri. Who knew that alcohol could get into the porous stone and stain it like that? We sure didn’t. But don’t you worry, we’re working on getting it out. And you can put a rug over it, see?” She kicks out her leg, but then remembers there’s no rug anymore, so instead she lays down the teatowel she’s carrying. “There!”
“Now, if you follow me,” Gwen urges the man into the eastern wing before he can look closer, which is probably for the best. I’ve learned that modern people don’t consider bloodstains to be tasteful decor. “I’ll show you the guest rooms. The house has been used as a B&B, but of course you could have a wing for guests, or fill it with children. These rooms are ready for your own personal stamp. Just look at these chandeliers!”
As they step into the first room and Gwen hits the light switch, Edward plunges his arm into the wall. The chandelier flickers. The man frowns.
“Is something wrong with the wiring?”
“Nothing’s wrong with it!” Sylvie says, her voice as shrill as a gorgon. “We’ve had it certified. It’s just an old house—”
Edward winks at me as he twists his hand. The chandelier flickers for longer this time. Something goes POP and there’s a smell of smoke.
“That doesn’t seem safe,” the man says.
“Ifyou’ll follow me,” Gwen says loudly. “We’ll look at the bathrooms. They include some beautiful period features with modern conveniences…”
